In Gray
by xxmoonbeam
Summary: When Spike returns after another brush with death, he is even more reckless. With the knowledge of Julia's death, he urges his crew upon one one crazy mission after another. But one high stakes bounty leads Spike and the others where they'd never believe


**In Gray**

Disclaimer- I do not own Cowboy Bebop or have any affiliation with it, I just enjoy writing fan fiction.

_Gray - that was how he saw the world. Varying shades of black and white and the horrid gray that lay dead center, in between. Nothing mattered. Nothing could ever matter again. She was the only vibrant thing in his world - and she was gone now. He had failed to protect her when she needed him the most. And now…_

_It would always be gray…_

Spike awoke in a familiar manner - it was the middle of the night and he was freezing, even though sweat was dribbling down his lanky body. He wrapped the cheap and hotel-stolen blanket around himself tightly, trying to block out his chills.

It had been a full year since Julia had died. (_Murder_, whispered in his head - always, his conscience made him remember it. _Murder._) A year since he had smiled - not that he had ever done much of that anyway. A year since he'd started having the fucked up dreams that plagued him every night.

It wasn't enough that he thought about her most of the time that he was awake. He had to think of her when he was dreaming, too.

It was the dreams that bothered him the most. He could force himself to think of something else or simply go out and capture a bounty to keep his mind off of his guilt, during the day. But at night, once he went to sleep, she was always there in his dreams.

So realistic, he could smell the rose oil she used. He could see her bejeweled blue eyes, her sad smile, her butterscotch blonde hair _("Grow it out for me, it looks beautiful that way," he had told her years before…); _it made him long to reach out and touch the silky locks with his fingertips, but to no avail. The dream world showed him no small comforts.

Neither did anything else.

Nothing would, or could, change the fact that he hadn't been there in time. His inner psych would never ease up on him about it. With a groan, Spike forced himself back to sleep.

"Wake up, douche bag." He felt a boot kick him lightly in the side, and made an annoyed swing of his fist. "Hey! Watch it, you almost got me!"

It was a woman's voice… but not the one that he wanted to hear.

Faye was staring at him with her usual vodka-induced smile. "Hey there, skinny boy. Time to check out the bounties of the day, it's that time - or has your time away made you forget?"

Spike gave her a low growl as he sparked up a lopsided cigarette (as usual, he'd fallen asleep with the pack under his god damn pillow, somehow.) He sat up, rubbing his itchy nose with an annoyed expression on his face. "No, I have not forgotten," he drawled through a mouthful of smoke.

Faye smirked, and gave a light shrug of her shoulders. It had been only two weeks since Spike had returned to the ship from wherever the hell he had run off to. After Julia died, he had just disappeared… without a single word to anybody. All of a sudden, about three weeks ago, a picture message appeared on the airship's screen - one of Spike, looking tousled, asking Jet to come pick him up from a seedy martian town.

Forgotten. Yea, right. Being a bounty hunter had been the only thing he'd ever really known how to do. Hunt, hit, capture - that was all he was good for, if you even called it being good for something.

Spike rose out of bed, mumbling something beneath his breath about "damn intrusive women." Faye sauntered out of the room, and the sulky hunter followed her.

He entered the common room quietly and plopped in his usual spot upon the couch, right in front of the monitor and adjacent to the snack bowl (pretzels, it looked like). Spike tore into them, his eyes fixated upon the screen before him. He was barely listening as the announcers droned on with their usual introductions.

Jet noted Spike's behavior with a disgruntle sigh. It was unlike the boy to be so distracted. Hell, it was unlike the boy to have such an appetite.

"Now we have a special for all ya'll big shots out there tonight!"

"A man named Doctor Black of the northern Mars territory…who took off from his big-time secret government agency! Rumor has it that he has been performing secret, black-market experiments!"

"Now for the icing on the cake, partners: when it comes to the bounty's reward…"

"There is no cash limit! That's right folks, seems the government big shots must be pretty anxious to get this one back!"

"Whoever catched Doctor Black gets to pick their price!"

All three eyes met each other's across the table instantly. "Did you hear that?" Faye squealed. "Mars! We are *on* Mars! Name your price! Can you imagine-"

"Hold on there, now," Jet interjected calmly. "There has to be some sort of a catch to this one. Besides, every bounty hunter in the galaxy is going to go after this guy with dollar signs in their eyes. It sounds dangerous."

"What do you think, Spike?" The woman questioned loudly, pale hands set angrily upon shapily hips.

Spike looked up at the two blankly for a moment before offering a meager shrug. He pulled a cigarette out of his suit jacket's pocket, setting it loosely between thin lips. "I think," he drawled in response before bringing flame to his smoke, "that Jet is right. There is a catch somewhere in the works. Let's capitalize on it," he said, exhaling a long cloud of smoke before getting up suddenly.

"Spike," Jet protested, but the lanky man was making swift strides towards the exit. "Spike!"

"Relax," Spike chuckled, tossing a glance back over his shoulder. "Tell Ed to start using her hacker magic to get us any leads." Without another word, Spike exited the room.

Jet sighed in frustration, using his good hand to scratch his head. "That damn boy, I can never figure out what he's trying to do other than get himself killed."

"Do you want me to go after him?" Faye asked gently, dipping nonchalantly into the bowl of pretzels.

"No, no. He'll have a fit. Let him make his round, and we'll find out what we can here. If he's going to throw us into the fire, better we go in prepared."


End file.
